


Drabbles

by shyfoxling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bad Puns, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gen Fic, Humor, Love, M/M, Parody, Poetry, plotless random imagery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-09-27
Updated: 2009-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyfoxling/pseuds/shyfoxling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of things under 500 words I've written over the years. They're not in their original order here but they began in September 2007. Variety of characters and pairings, and gen. Each drabble is noted with its own rating and the characters therein.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And My Soul?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Rating: PG / T_   
> _Characters: Severus Snape; Albus Dumbledore and Draco Malfoy mentioned in passing_

Afterwards, I wondered silently why I had bothered to ask Albus how he weighed my soul against Draco's. His words were fair and persuasive, but underneath them I heard his true thought:

 _What soul, Severus?_

I wonder how many others he thinks it of. Maybe that is how he is able to do what he does.

I'm not unused to being called "soulless"; it's a word often in fine company: Cold. Bitter. Cruel. Spiteful. Those - as true as scales on a snake. But how could I have earned them without a soul?

I certainly have enough for what is next.


	2. Bottled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters: Severus/Harry **  
> **Rating: PG_   
> _A/N: Birthday gift for the_flic on LiveJournal, inspired by a "gibberished" line in a post from the_bitter_word: "How to bottle foolish wand-waving the delicate power of potion-making."  
> _

"Say, Severus, how do you bottle foolish wand-waving?"

"Are you asking me this question in an academic capacity, Potter, or are you merely making idle morning conversation?"

"If I say it's the first?"

"Then you shall have to address me as 'Professor' if you expect an answer."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? And what if it's the second?"

"I shall force-feed you coffee until you begin making sense."

"Ha! All right then, _Professor_. How do you bottle foolish wand-waving?"

"You don't, Potter. That's a ridiculous question."

"Hey! That's a ridiculous answer!"

"It's a true answer."

"That doesn't make it any better!"

"Truth is often slightly ridiculous. Take, for example, the fact that I continue to put up with you."

"Last time you remarked on that you said it was 'absurd'. Is 'ridiculous' better or worse than 'absurd'?"

"As usual you are asking the wrong question. You _should_ be concerning yourself with the day that I might say 'intolerably ludicrous'."

"You're horrible, Severus. Would you really ever say that?"

"I might be getting somewhere near it as we speak."

"Augh! I wish I knew how to bottle _this_ so I could keep a stopper in it and only let it out when I'm in a mood to deal with it."

"Now that I can show you, if you are interested."

"What, bottled sarcasm? I suppose _you_ would know!"

"I did have ample supplies of, ah, the raw materials necessary for the experiment."

"Don't you have enough already without keeping a distilled bottle of the stuff around? Most people just put sugar in their coffee, Severus."

"My, my. Have you been dipping into it?"

"No, but there's something else I'd like to dip into."

"Is that why you are on my lap?"

"Is that why your - ohh - mouth is on my throat?"

"Mmmm..."


	3. Change of Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters: Severus, Harry_   
> _Rating: G_   
> _A/N: Came about in the process of trying to assist someone with writing a "dead!Snape and Harry have a chat" (whether by means of portrait, or Resurrection Stone) fic._

"You know, Professor, I was thinking of naming one of my children after you."

"How gauche, Potter. Can't come up with anything original between you and your Weasley sweetheart? Pity."

Harry's eyes flashed, but for once he kept his temper in check. "Look, I know it's a little clichéd to name children after people you respect, but-"

Snape snorted. "I wonder if you've looked that word up in the dictionary lately. I certainly wouldn't have used it to describe your attitude towards me."

"That's because you weren't still around when I started thinking it."

Snape blinked, confused.

"Go on..."


	4. The Devil's Tritone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters: Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy_   
> _Rating: G_   
> _A/N: Written for snape100 (Livejournal/Dreamwidth/Insanejournal) challenge #214, "Snape's hands"._

Severus's nimble fingers stroked idly over the flat ivory as he waited in the Malfoys' parlour.

"It's called a piano, Severus," said Lucius, entering with a smirk as extravagant as the rest of his attire.

"Is it, indeed?" Severus replied with mock innocence. "My thanks, for I should never have identified this exotic three-legged beast without your timely help."

Lucius smiled indulgently. "We'll be just a moment more. You know Narcissa."

Severus grunted noncommittally as Lucius exited without waiting for a reply, then flexed his long fingers, pale as the ivory, but shining like moonlight against the sharps and flats.


	5. Diamonds and Rubies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters: Severus, Lucius  
>  Rating: PG-13  
> Warning: Vague hint at blood-play. A little slashy.  
> A/N: Written for snape100 (LJ/IJ/DW) challenge #199, "Snape and the Malfoys". _   
> _I'd never tried to write any of the Malfoys, so I was kind of blundering around in the dark here. I just wanted to give the prompt a try, and see if I could come up with something. I liked the first sentence, anyway, and wanted to expand on it._

Droplets of rain speckled Severus' cloak with tiny, freezing diamonds. His irritation grew by the second as he stood by the gates. Hadn't Lucius said eight o'clock sharp? Either the bastard was keeping him waiting, or had decided to be fashionably late – to his own home! Ah – at last. One half of the gate was silently opening, and he splashed up the walk to the door. Severus suppressed an expression of scorn – _such ostentation; is it really necessary?_ – as flickering candlelight made Lucius' intricately adorned clothing flash with characteristic fire, the glinting of the sort of diamonds that never faded.

 _Does he get himself up like that just to sit around the house?_ Severus wondered sourly. Still, he had to admit it had a certain theatrical effect; or, if he were honest with himself, that it was impossible for Lucius to do anything but wear it well. Too well, perhaps. _But really, Lucius. Diamonds, with that spun platinum you call hair? You look like a snow sculpture. Rubies... now that would be excellent. Like blood on your snow._ Lucius' back was still turned as he led Severus silently into the parlour; Severus grinned ferally to himself. _Perhaps I can... demonstrate._


	6. Endurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus/Sirius. Sort of.  
>  Rating: PG-13  
> A/N: Written for snape100 prompt #211, "Birthday gifts"._

"Mmm. More. Harder."

Sirius grunted with the effort. "Severus, I—"

"Shut up. More, I said. –Oh, oh _yes_. Like that."

Not that Sirius didn't enjoy hearing Severus reduced to such babble, but he was exhausted, damn it. "Severus, my hands are cramping."

"You should have thought of that before you offered this as a birthday gift."

"Maybe you're young enough to do this six times a day, but I—"

"We're the same age, mutt. And six times a day? Who has the time? –More to the left. Ohhh, yesssss—"

Now Sirius knew why he'd never seen Severus's hair properly clean.

First draft:

"Mmm. More. Harder."

Sirius grunted with the effort. "Severus, I—"

"Shut up. More, I said. –Oh, oh _yes_. Like that."

Not that Sirius didn't enjoy hearing Severus reduced to such babble, but he was exhausted, damn it. "Severus, my hands are cramping. Six rounds of this would wear anyone out."

"You should have thought of that before you offered this as a birthday gift."

"You must have endurance, then, doing this for yourself every day."

"Six times a day? Who has the time? –More to the left. Ohhh, yesssss—"

Now Sirius knew why he'd never seen Severus's hair properly clean.


	7. eyes that cannot see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Sirius Black  
>  Rating: PG  
> Warning: Nothing actually, er, happens.  
> A/N: I don't usually do pretentious formatting stuff like eschewing capital letters, but it seemed appropriate here._

there were shadows in his head where no one could see them, where no one believed they were there, with the density of a forest all loam and lichen. he reckoned that's why his eyes were so dark a grey: they were mere silver-tinted glazing, transparent, showing through to those shadows fluttering like a flock of dying doves. sometimes he used to choose to do things even though he knew they were bad ideas; he'd had a light that showed him everything so plain and simple. now he just couldn't see past the shadows into the place where consequences lived.


	8. Family Obligations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus, Eileen  
>  Rating: G  
> A/N: Written for snape100 prompt #205, "Family gatherings". Venturous drew me [an illustration for this drabble](http://venturous.insanejournal.com/41172.html)._

"I won't do it, Mam."

"Come now, Severus, be a good lad..."

"I won't!"

"Yes, you will, my little one, and as you're fifteen you'll stop whinging about it like a child half your age."

Severus scowled. Her "little one"? He was taller than she was, now, even though that wasn't saying all that much.

"Here, Severus, come sit in front of me," his mother said, standing between her brother and mother.

"All right, everyone, smiles now!" said the photographer.

 _When sea serpents fly,_ thought Severus, making plans to burn his copy of this family picture at the first opportunity.


	9. The Longbottom Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus, Neville, Trevor the toad  
>  Rating: G_   
> _A/N: I think this was written as a gift for pennswoods on Livejournal._

Some days it was a little frustrating being Neville Longbottom's friend. He _tried_ to give Neville heartfelt advice about the value of calmly collecting one's thoughts and presenting an impassive face to antagonists, but the boy was just so easily flustered by people who seemed to take delight in making things difficult for others.

Take today, for example. A typical minor disaster, and then that low, menacing voice: "Longbottom, you _appalling_ idiot," it said. "Someone ought to slice open your head, scoop out the useless mush within like so many pumpkin seeds, and use your skull for a _helmet_ , for clearly it is made of some mystical substance far more impenetrable than the mere bone possessed by ordinary wizards. Truly, a _rare gift indeed_ has been bestowed upon you."

Yes, well. That was putting it a little strongly, he thought, but the big dark one was just one of those sorts of people. Poor Neville, though; he really let it get to him. In fact, sometimes he wondered whether Neville was understanding him at all.

Ah, well. It was a bit of a job, but someone had to do it. All he could do at that point was offer his condolences.

" _Brrrrreeee-oonnnnnk,_ " he croaked sympathetically.

"Trevor, shhh!" whispered Neville with a note of panic. "If Professor Snape hears I've brought you along again, I've _really_ had it."


	10. It Chooses the Wizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus_   
> _Rating: PG / K+  
>  A/N: Written for snape100 challenge #210, "New beginnings"._

Shortly after Lily's murder, Severus began to notice an increasing feeling of unease whenever he used his wand, like it was distancing itself from him. Foolish though he felt ascribing speech to a tool, he could almost imagine it saying, "I don't know who you are anymore."

Put like that, it had a point; Severus himself wasn't certain the person who had wielded it until now was the one whose muted reflection gazed back at him from the shop's window.

Severus steeled himself and entered. He would begin again with a wand that had never done a Death Eater's work.


	11. Honeyed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus/Sirius by intent, although not named.  
>  Rating: PG / T  
> A/N: Rather off-key from your usual Snack._

I forget, somehow, that my fingers are still sticky from the drops of honey you have been taking from them with slow and tender licks and sucks; as I, entranced, move to brush your hair from your cheek, I leave a tacky golden fingerprint behind. I smile and softly lick the spot of sweetness from the bone, and you laugh.

Black eyes turn towards grey, new moon and full, your depths absorbing whatever shines from mine. For so I'm told they do, and told I am, shining, a bright new-drawn sword, a white stallion whose coat flashes and ripples in the sunlight, my black mane best India ink against it all.

But though the mane is black indeed (I feel your fingers in it now, stroking, gripping), that's all there is for me: no white coat, but only black; no horse, but rather hound, ever your faithful one, and I will harry and defend in your name, for your love.

Your mouth tastes of the endless labours of the bees.


	12. untitled: Hermione flees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus, Hermione  
>  Rating: PG / K+  
> A/N: This was written in response to this abruptly-stopping summary from a submission on fanfiction.net:_   
> _"You Mister Severus 'whatever your middle name is' Snape, are hot," She grinned as she reached into her purse, and pulled out a vial, "Sober up potion," she took a drink, and smiled at him, "You know," she leaned in, and whispered in his ear once again, "_

"You, Mister Severus whatever-your-mid...dle..."

Hermione trailed off in mid-sentence as the potion took effect, then blushed a shade of scarlet a Mediterranean sunset would envy as the reality of what she had just said came crashing down on her. She chanced a look into Severus's eyes and immediately regretted it; running up against the force of his gaze was like bouncing off a concrete wall. She quickly peeled herself off of him and glanced down at the vial in her hand, which made it clear: she had grasped the wrong one.

 _That's the last time I carry that next to my Aphrodillusia_ , Hermione thought, turning away to face the wall. She groaned in frustration, then hurled the vial against the floor, where it shattered. She gained only momentary satisfaction from this act, however, as Severus's cold voice frosted over her fury at herself, chilling it to a block of ice in her gut.

"Only one person in this room, Miss Granger, is allowed to scatter broken glass upon its floor. I believe that person is me, and not _you_." He paused, and the only sound Hermione could hear in that space was her own rapid breathing. "But if you doubt my conclusion," he continued in a falsely kind tone, "I should be delighted to afford you a _demonstration_." The last word was a snarl that would have made a tiger think twice about going after whatever prey Severus might have been pursuing.

Hermione quickly weighed her chances against something Harry had once mentioned about a jar of cockroaches.

She fled.


	13. November Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus  
>  Rating: PG / K+  
> A/N: Written for snape100 challenge #201, "Random Word Redux"; my word was "brittleness". _   
> _This turned out a little more *hand-staple-forehead* than I wanted it to. Ah well._

Starlight glinted off the black surface of the lake, still as a mirror under a moonless sky, and off the black centers of a pair of eyes gazing out across it. A cold wind arose and scattered the looking-glass, scattered leaves, rustling brittleness as they brushed against one another. The wind also whipped strands of black hair into the watching eyes, and stung the cheeks and nose of their owner, but he didn't mind; it stung far less than tears would have if he had allowed them. Every first of November since... since it had happened was like this, anyway.


	14. Not Every Flavor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters: Severus, Regulus; allusion to unrequited Severus/Lily  
>  Rating: G / K  
> A/N: Written for snape100 challenge #203, "Weather". Contains slightly emo!Severus and a bit of a ripoff of an idea from Sideways Stories from Wayside School._

Severus stared sullenly out the rain-streaked window of the train.

"Have a bean, go on," said Regulus.

"Piss off." Severus listened to the rain beating an insistent and, he hoped, silencing tattoo.

"Don't make me put one in your mouth."

Regulus sounded a little too eager about that idea. "I'll have your fingers if you dare. Besides, they don't come in the flavour I'd really like to try."

"Oh? What flavour? You'd be surprised."

But Severus ignored Regulus and resumed watching the rain. _And after that damned fiasco by the lake last term, now I'll never get to try it._


	15. Make Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus, Lily  
>  Rating: G / K  
> Warning: Excessive cuteness.  
> A/N: For the 13drabbles alpha set prompt #4, "Make believe". _

"Sev, what do wizard children do when they play make-believe?"

"Make-believe?"

"You know, when you pretend you're princes and princesses or Robin Hood or astronauts, only I thought that since they, I mean, since _we_ have real magic, why _make-believe_?" Lily giggled into her hands. "It'd be so funny if wizard children pretended to be _Muggles!_ "

Severus was a bit bewildered by this stream of happy chatter. One bit in particular was troubling him. He hated to appear not to know something, but maybe it would make her question clear.

He screwed up his courage and asked, "What's an astronaut?"


	16. No Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Lucius is the unnamed narrator; Severus is the subject  
>  Rating: PG / K+  
> A/N: Vaguely slashy; 94% dark irony by volume._

He has done something terrible to his soul, and embraces it. He reaches out for no one's redemption, no one's succour. He does not plead the slightest thing with his black gaze piercing mine so silver-grey. He does not once again latch on with those long fingers to my flesh already bruised, for he is wholly a stranger to deeds of desperation. His voice never falters, not a whit, for there is nothing he could say he needs from anyone, nor even me. He feels no sense of loss, has no regrets. He does _not_ , he says again and again. He does not... he does not...


	17. Serpents Bearing Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters: Severus Snape, Narcissa Malfoy_   
> _Rating: PG-13_   
> _Warnings: Dark theme; implied murder of a child; somewhat evil!Severus.  
>  A/N: Written as a gift for swtalmnd on Insanejournal to [this image prompt](http://swtalmnd.insanejournal.com/186629.html).  
> _

What exactly was he offering her? Narcissa wasn't sure. The angle of the light in the room cast Severus' eyes deep into shadow, so there was even less to be read there than usual. She thought that the beginning, or end, of a smile might be quirking one corner of his mouth, but Severus often smirked to himself at private observations which didn't necessarily have anything to do with his current surroundings.

At the moment, his surroundings contained Narcissa, her newborn son, and a pear-shaped flask with sky-blue contents. The liquid luminesced faintly white, filling Severus' palm with pale bluish light.

"What is that, Severus?" Narcissa asked, rocking the child gently.

"A gift, with my felicitations, to celebrate the birth," he said in a low, calm voice.

"Clearly it is a gift. Don't try to be devious. What does it do?"

"If I reveal that to you, it will certainly spoil the effect."

"Is it for him or for me? I do nurse him, you know." Narcissa stroked her son's soft cheek.

"I imagined you might. I have taken that into account. It is for you."

"Is there anything I can say that will coax a straight answer out of you?"

Severus smiled a small, close-lipped smile. "Narcissa, how long have you known me?"

Narcissa sighed. "Very well; leave it on the table there."

Severus did so, then bowed towards Narcissa slightly, his hand on his chest. "Again, my congratulations; but I must be leaving."

"Mmm," Narcissa said as she nuzzled the baby's forehead. "All right. You will be at the public naming next week, won't you, Severus?"

"Only death would stop me."

Little Eridanus Malfoy suddenly took ill and died one day before his naming. Two-year-old Draco was inconsolable, demanding in high-pitched screams to know what had happened to his baby brother.

Narcissa and Lucius had no answer for him. And as many times as they tried to conceive another child, they never succeeded.

Narcissa pitied her son and her husband, but she pitied herself far more.


	18. Pocket Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: young Severus  
>  Rating: PG / K+  
> A/N: Written for snape100 challenge #200, "Double drabble" (200 words exactly). _

Severus' black cloak swished behind him as he strode purposefully down Diagon Alley. Being August, it was really too hot for such an outer garment, but it was the newest item of clothing in his whole wardrobe, and he would have felt naked and embarrassed without it. Walking by himself, however, amplified his sense of being stared at, which was not helped by the fact that he did in fact attract the occasional concerned gaze. _What business is it of theirs?_ he thought viciously as he scowled at the ground. _I'm thirteen; I can bloody well take care of myself._

A flash of gold chose that moment to interrupt Severus' brooding. Someone had dropped a Galleon on the pavement. _Faust's bolloc- an entire_ _ **Galleon?**_ Severus thought, in mixed disbelief that someone could do so, and that he would happen to come upon it. He snatched it up, of course. _I_ _ **should**_ _use this on one of my books, or some replacements for my Potions kit. But..._ Severus had had precious little spending money in his life. What he really _wanted_ to waste... er, ah, _spend_ it on...

It was the best dish of Neapolitan ice cream he had ever had.


	19. On Christmas Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus  
>  Rating: PG / K+  
> Warnings: A little schmoopy.  
> A/N: In response to snape100 challenge #197, "Clothing", but not edited down to the 100 words required to post there. _

Professor Snape awoke on Christmas morning to an unusual sight: a wrapped parcel at the foot of his bed. Surprise flickered across his features for only a moment before turning to his usual bitterness. _Why, Father Christmas!_ he thought with a sneer. _I had no idea you brought presents to poor children as well!_

Curiosity overwhelmed cynicism, however, and he tore a small hole in the wrapping paper. The feel of silk greeted his fingertip. Frowning, he unwrapped the gift entirely. He already owned a set of dress robes - and why black silk? _Although,_ Snape admitted grudgingly, _my unknown benefactor has at least had the presence of mind to choose a matte finish._ He glanced at the card that had fallen on the duvet when he unfolded the garment and read:

 _I know I will probably never see you wearing these, Severus, but it's enough for me to think that you have them now, and will find occasion to set them against your bare skin someday. Happy Christmas._

No signature; he could not place the handwriting. _If indeed it is the giver's own, and not an accomplice or a charm._ Despite his suspicion, Snape felt a twinge of excitement and a strange urge to immediately try the garment on, as though he were five years old and had just received a cozy jumper in his favourite colour from a doting grandparent.

Suppressing this impulse, he re-folded the robes and placed them as he had found them moments ago. He arose and dressed in his customary teaching outfit - yes, even on Christmas - trying not to spare a further thought for the mysterious gift.

Just as Snape was about to walk through the door, however, he paused and turned back to look at the small, soft pile of black fabric. He blushed slightly, even though no one was looking, and gave it a hasty caress. _Thank you,_ he thought, with a fleeting desire to employ Occlumency against the absolutely no one who was currently trying to peer into his mind. _Happy Christmas to you, too._

* * *

 _alternate short version, 114 words:_

Snape awoke on Christmas to an unusual sight. _Why, Father Christmas!_ _I had no idea you brought presents to poor children!_

He poked a hole in the paper with a fingertip, and felt silk. Frowning, he unwrapped the gift. Dress robes?

 _I will probably never see you wearing these, Severus, but it's enough for me to think you might set them against your skin someday._

No signature _._ Suppressing the impulse to try them on, he re-folded the garment, arose, and dressed in his customary teaching outfit (even on Christmas).

About to walk through the door, he blushed and turned back to give the fabric a hasty caress. _Thank you_. _Happy Christmas to you, too._


	20. Precision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus  
>  Rating: G  
> A/N: Written for snape100 challenge #208, "Mistletoe"._

Severus considered the candidates clinging to the oak trees' bare, icy limbs. When his eyes lit on the perfect choice, he smirked and waggled his wand at it as if it had been a very, very naughty ball of mistletoe, then carefully looked away. _This year, for sure,_ Severus thought.

One, two, three frosty breaths, then - _swish_ \- he severed the mistletoe's roots with a silent charm. _Return stroke, swirl_ \- a white cloth appeared on the ground.

Severus finally turned to look when heard the rustling _fwoomf_ of the landing.

The leafy ball lay perfectly centered in the cloth's glowing rings.

Severus picked his way through the snow-covered undergrowth, seeking a particular stand of oak trees. When he arrived at the spot, he was pleased to see many large balls of mistletoe nestled among the trees' bare, icy limbs. Severus drew his wand and tapped it against his cheek gently as he carefully considered the candidates.

After a moment, his eyes lit on the perfect choice. Severus smirked and waggled his wand at it as if it had been a very, very naughty ball of mistletoe this year. Turning sideways, he let both his arms fall casually to his sides. One, two, three frosty breaths, and then - swirl, flick! - a silent charm neatly severed the roots of the ball where it clung to the tree branch. Severus heard papery crunching noises as it collided with branch after branch as it fell. Another swift gesture - swish inward, outward, point - conjured a white cloth on the ground. He heard the rustling _fwoomf_ of the landing and finally turned to look.

The ball of mistletoe lay exactly in the middle of the softly glowing concentric rings superimposed on the cloth. Severus's mouth smiled a little, but his eyes positively laughed as he picked up the four corners of the cloth to carry home his prize.


	21. The Voice and the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus, the Metatron (from Dogma)  
>  Rating: PG / K+  
> A/N: Written for snape100 challenge #202, "Crossover Snape". Hint of Catholic!Severus._

**Behold the Metatron, herald of the Almighty…**   


"...and voice of the one true God, yes, yes," snapped Severus. "Some of us did trouble ourselves to go beyond the basics of catechism."

"Well, well. Such a cheerful disposition you have, Severus. It must be a bloody delight waking up to yourself every morning."

In truth, Severus had been rather taken aback by what seemed to be almost his own voice making that announcement, and resorted to his usual defense. Severus had always thought his voice rich and authoritative, by turns sinister or sensual, one of his few features he liked. Now, however, he could see that as impressive as it was, there had been room for improvement. _Must be a benefit of being the Voice of God_ , Severus thought with irritation at being outclassed. _Although the wings don't hurt the effect either._

"I must say, though," the Metatron continued with slightly less vinegar, "that I'm disappointed I didn't stun any of the wind out of your superbly sarcastic sails with the fiery entrance. Such a classic, that one. Usually so reliable."

Severus smirked, his eyes flicking to the pot of Floo powder on the mantel. "Already accustomed to it, I'm afraid."


	22. Severus Snape and the Grudging Fact-Check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Full title: Severus Snape and the Grudging Fact-Check; or, The Adventures of Eurus Ainsworth, Magical Maintenance  
>  Characters/Pairing: Severus  
> Rating: G_   
> _A/N: Written for snape100 challenge #198, "The First Paragraph". Why Snape is writing humorous young-adult fiction with nods to the exploits of a certain pair of Weasleys, I have no idea (maybe he needs a hobby to take his mind off all that spying business)._

> It had been promising to be a routine day for Eurus Ainsworth when his partner Simon Chandler suddenly burst into their office and slammed the door behind him. Eurus looked up in alarm.
> 
> "Fancy cleaning up the swamp that's suddenly appeared in one of the lifts?" said Chandler.
> 
> "A _what_?"
> 
> "You heard me, Ainsworth. A swamp."
> 
> "But how could-"
> 
> "Sit down. Someone's just winding us up. Found this in the bin," he said, waving the lid of a box with a triple-W logo on it.
> 
> Eurus relaxed. "Well, that's simple, then; if we just reverse the charm that's-"

Snape paused, twirling his quill. _How_ _ **did**_ _they work, exactly?_ He couldn't fabricate something; let a detail like that slip because "it's only a story" and you'll have Howlers tearing apart every inconsistency before you can say "obsessive reading public". _If only such people would apply their minds to, say, the depths of magical theory,_ he thought with chagrin.

There was nothing else for it. He took out a fresh sheet and began:

 _Messrs. Weasley & Weasley,_

 _As much as it galls me to admit it, it seems there is a small matter upon which only you can advise me..._


	23. Since Feeling is First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus/female character of your choice_   
> _Rating: G_   
> _A/N: Written for an old Valentine's party on snapedom (InsaneJournal), prompt "poetry". Not very clearly set around Valentine's Day, but, um, take my word for it. Also, we loves titles from e.e. cummings, yes precious._

It didn't exist, Severus concluded with a frustrated sigh. It was purely a deranged fantasy. There was simply no such thing as – yecch – _love poetry_ that didn't make him queasy at the mere thought of it.

"Sour grapes," a certain sort of wag might have remarked whilst glancing meaningfully at the heap of wadded-up scraps in the rubbish bin, but perhaps not if they wished to keep all the members of their person present and in their original places.

How, Severus asked himself for the thousandth time, just bloody _how_ was anyone supposed to write about _feelings_ without coming across as an utter idiot? They were essentially the opposite of considered, rational thought. Treachery was their game and being made a fool was the only wages one could expect to collect from them. Not for Severus Snape, that; he was no sweet, simpering thing bereft of common sense.

He was sure that he didn't merely _feel_ anything about her, anyway. Her gaze meeting his was the early spring sun and the changes in the patterns of the wheeling stars that called forth the living serpent from the mound, defeating cold and lonely winter. Her simple presence sang forth water from a well within him he hadn't even known was there, because without her it was dry. She was blood in his veins, without which he was deathly white and lifeless. For her, that grey landscape of his spirit would green, would live, would even _shine_.

But how could he _say—_

Severus touched the fingers of one hand to his lips in surprise.

He picked up his quill.


	24. The Strange Case of the Use of "Slut"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus/Sirius  
>  Rating: R / M  
> A/N: Came about when writing a post about what words I did and did not like to see used in erotic fanfic._

Sirius didn't think he could stand it much longer. Snape's cock kept brushing against his naked thigh and hip and side in a most beautiful... _no! "enticing"... um, er, "tempting"... no! uh... "frustrating"? yeah, safe enough..._ frustrating way, a way that made Sirius want to howl out loud.

He bit his tongue, though, and made a rumbling noise in his throat. Snape's hand was moving far too slowly on Sirius's own prick, among everything else, and his lips and tongue persisted in their irritating gentle touches, too quick and fluttering for Sirius to catch and bite them. They were going nowhere so fast and so smoothly - well, it made his balls ache. This either had to stop, or it had to go much further, much faster.

 _Provoke him_ , Sirius's instincts urged. _Either make him angry, or convince him he's got to fuck or die._ Either would do at this point.

Sirius did his best to catch his breath and snarled, "Fuck, Snape, is that cock just for show, or is it also for action?"

Severus stilled, and Sirius could have sworn he heard the smile creaking across the bastard's face.

Well, shit. When Severus Snape smiled so loudly they could hear it on the continent, that couldn't mean anything good.

Without a word, Severus crept across Sirius like a venomous spider, his limbs seeming too long and too many, until he was positioned with the top sides of his thighs pressing up against the underside of Sirius's legs, hands planted on either side of Sirius's head, hair dangling against and tickling Sirius's cheeks, and cock-head resting against Sirius's arsehole.

Sirius was surprised at how little he had resisted this arrangement of their bodies.

"Why, you _slut_ ," whispered Severus, leaning down to brush his lips against Sirius's ear. "It was always obvious you were a man of action, instead of thought... but _this_ action?"

Severus pressed his hips forward just hard enough as he said the word "this", and Sirius hurriedly prisoned a moan in his throat...


	25. Softer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus  
>  Rating: G / K  
> Warnings: Second person  
> A/N: This was the first fic I ever wrote. Written for snape100 challenge #196, "Sleep". _

Severus Snape softens somewhat in sleep. Somewhat: you doubt if anything could ever completely smooth him to satin. But asleep, he becomes a little more delicate, graceful, if that can be said of someone lying still and breathing. Surrounded by the deep black of his hair, his pale face reminds you a little of the waning moon about to slip behind the horizon as the night grows old and tired. You brush a strand of hair out of his eyes and he takes one deeper breath, a little sigh.

Softer, yes.

But even the moon is still made of stone.


	26. Snow-Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus/Hermione_   
> _Rating: PG / light T_   
> _A/N: Written for PhalacrocoraxCarbo to her picture[Snow](http://phalacrocoraxcarbo.deviantart.com/art/Snow-147027933). I am not into Severus/Hermione and this is the only time I've seriously tried to write it, so forgive me if I get the character dynamic all wrong and it sounds stupid and excessively fluffy._

Severus shivered, pulled his scarf up a little higher around his throat, and tried to sink his jaw and cheeks down into it like a turtle. His voice a little muffled by the green and grey striped wool, he said, "Granger, if you'd just—"

"—Hermione," she admonished him without looking up, scraping her fingers through the snow to make the lines of her snow-horse's mane.

" _Hermione_ ," he continued gruffly, "as I've told you twice already, if you insist on making _snow sculpture_ in the dead of winter you surely have faster and better ways of doing so." He tapped the tip of his wand impatiently against his palm. "Or doth the history of your Charms marks deceive me?" He ardently wished once again that he'd put on a hat and gloves before venturing out in the twilit snow to collect the foolish young witch.

"Oh, Severus," she sighed, standing and brushing the snow from her knees, then turning to face him. "One thing I've learned is that there are just some things that are better to do with your own hands." For a moment she remembered hearing about Harry digging Dobby's grave in the Muggle way and blinked away the tears that sprang to her eyes. Then, smiling, she took one of his hands in hers. Caressing his fingers suggestively, she stretched up to whisper in his ear, " _Some_ things. As I'm sure you know..."

Severus shivered again, but not from the cold. "Some things," he agreed in a low, hot voice, and led her inside.


	27. Why the smirk?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus/Sirius  
>  Rating: PG-13 / T  
> A/N: This was written in response to a bad drawing of mine, where Severus had a kind of eyebrow-ing, smirking expression, and I wondered what he might be looking at off-frame._

"You know, Black, faced with the actual fact of it, it turns out that you disrobing in front of me is several orders of magnitude less off-putting than I had hitherto thought it would be."

"There you go again, Snape."

"And where is _there_ , exactly?"

"Using that brain for thinking and that mouth for talking."

"We can't all keep our brains in the pristine, unused state in which you so carefully preserve yours, Black. Pity I can't say the same for your mou-mmmph. ... mmm."

"You know, I can think of something else which isn't pristine and unused."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed. It's not used enough yet, though."

"Perhaps I can... assist."


	28. untitled, painting with light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus  
>  Rating: G  
> A/N: Plotless random imagery._

Light shimmered, green and blue and white and violet waves of it. Alone, only alone would Severus do this, little symphonies of mist and light in the air before him. Playful, illusory; it was one of his favourite uses of magic, striking himself dumb with the silent beauty he could create. He let it flow and shine, cascading down like a cloak behind him, swirling like a cauldron, a maelstrom before him. Palms of cold flame, a blue impossible for the eyes to focus on properly, numinous and angelic. Severus teased the tendrils into intricate shapes with his fingertips, caressing it like skin, making fragile smudges with his thumbs. A secret indulgence, a foolish pursuit, increasing no skill nor yielding any knowledge, only twisting his heart with delicious longing. No would know, could ever know; he hid it, clothed it in shadows, shrouded it in darkness like everything else.


	29. Epitaph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus, JKR  
>  Rating: G  
> A/N: Written for mysduende, who said in an LJ post in July 2007: "Will someone puleaze write up a ficlette where Snape comes to JKR's doorstep complete with snake puncture marks on his neck, blood caked on his disheveled robes and contemptous scowl on his face?"_

"Would you like me to do it now or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"

Long seconds passed while Jo just stared. Her eyes took in the details -- including a trail of dried blood leading from two hideous puncture wounds on the man's neck to a dark crusty splotch on the upper chest of his black robes -- but while comprehension began to dawn in her brain, she didn't seem to be able to make anything come out of her mouth.

 _Mental note -- ask who's at the door before you open it. Not, I suppose, that it would have stopped **him**..._

"At a loss for words at long last, I see. Perhaps you will allow me to ghost-write something appropriate for you? Let me see... Ah, yes. 'Joanne Rowling: WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME WAS I THINKING?' That should do nicely."

Jo swallowed heavily against the wand now jabbed into her throat. _Oh, bollocks. Where did he even get wind of that "hero" comment, anyway?_

Snape smiled a dangerous-looking smile. "Now, would you prefer marble or granite?"


	30. The Hunting of the Snape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus, Marauders  
>  Rating: G  
> A/N: Only a partial work; I never had the energy and brain to complete this. Parody in response to part of a summary on FFN: "Snape is hunted by is past of Willow creek". The reference is to [The Hunting of the Snark](http://www.literature.org/authors/carroll-lewis/the-hunting-of-the-snark/)._

"Just the place for a Snape!" young Sirius cried,  
Post the _cracks_ of his Apparition  
And those of his peers that appeared by his side,  
Sharing his Snapely ambition.

"Just the place for a Snape! I have said it twice:  
That alone should encourage, you see.  
Just the place for a Snape! I have said it thrice:  
It's true when I tell you times three."

The crew was complete: he himself was a Dog  
(At least after Transfiguration);  
His Stag and his Rat-friends were sat on a log,  
And a Werewolf (who lacked motivation).

They were Map-makers whose skill was immense;  
Of trouble, caused more than their share;  
Their prey they made nervous and anxious and tense  
And mocked him with merciless care.

There was once that the Werewolf, who now paced the ground,  
Had almost set teeth to the Snape;  
The Snape, he was saved, for in time was he found,  
While he stood in his horror, a-gape.

But though it was awful, and gruesome mischance,  
No lesson, it seems, thereby learned:  
For later that year they showed off his pants  
By means of his own spell back-turned.


	31. Denile (is a river in Egypt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus, Draco  
>  Rating: G  
> A/N: Silliness in response to this summary on FFN: "Severus and Draco share a rather interesting moment of denile."_

The barge bobbed gently in the current as it drifted down the river.

"So, Draco, what do you think of Egypt?"

Draco turned to his former professor, shading his eyes with his hand against the light reflecting off the surface of the water, yet still unable to stop squinting. He couldn't understand how Severus could bear to keep wearing black in this punishing heat. At least it was loose linen, though, and not the swathes upon swathes of wool he usually wrapped around his body back home in England.

"It's fascinating, Severus, but someone really ought to turn down the sun a few notches." He gingerly pressed his fingertips against the tender, pinkened skin of his forehead, nose, and cheekbones, then swiped his hands through his disgustingly sweat-dampened hair, and fished a square of cotton from a pocket to wipe them on. (White might not be the best colour for him to wear, but it _was_ more comfortable here, and like hell he was going to sully his robe by wiping his hands on it like a toddler.)

"Do you know the ancient Egyptians used to mitigate the heat by shaving their heads?" Severus replied casually, and turned a papyrus page in his guidebook.

"..."

Severus shrugged and returned to the book, ignoring the glare Draco aimed at his long, dark, sweat-slicked ponytail. "It's true. If you find it that intolerable, you might give it some thought."

Draco bristled. "I think this holiday is just about over."


	32. A Privilege, Not a Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Harry, Ron, Hermione, cameo from Severus  
>  Rating: G  
> A/N: Crack in response to this part of a summary on FFN: "Love is returned as Harry is about to jump at Hogwarts."_

Hermione's eyes were bright with enthusiasm as she brushed some imaginary dirt off her red and gold P.E. kit. "I'm so glad they've finally decided to instate regular physical education classes here at Hogwarts. It's just what I've always thought was needed."

Harry, on the other hand, looked around the Great Hall with apprehension, taking in the blocks sitting on the floor at each student's place. "I know, but did it have to be step aerobics? What was wrong with Quidditch?"

"Yeah, Hermione. From what you said, it sounds awful. Who needs all that jumping and stuff?" Ron folded his arms and pouted like a three-year-old.

Harry shuddered. "And I'm _really_ not looking forward to seeing Hooch in Spandex."

"In what?" asked Ron. Then, suddenly, he blinked twice and his eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Oh no," he gasped, as though the blackest of evil dooms had come upon them. "Oh, NO!"

"What, Ron, what is it?" Harry followed Ron's pointing finger, and immediately wished he hadn't.

It wasn't Hooch. It wasn't even Sprout.

It was Snape.

Spandex and all.

Harry slumped to the floor. "Well, at least we know we must have done our best against Voldemort."

Hermione and Ron both looked down at him in confusion and said, "Huh?"

Mournful green eyes stared upwards. "We must have died, because this is obviously Hell."

Hermione looked up at Snape and cocked her head to one side. "Actually, it's not all _that_ bad. At least it's still black. But what I don't quite understand is how he's still managing to billow."

Ron looked back up as well and pulled a face. "So that stuff's Spandex, then?"

Harry nodded dejectedly.

"Blimey," Ron breathed. "Maybe the Death Eaters are right: Muggles _are_ evil."


	33. A Fowl Mood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Characters/Pairing: Severus  
>  Rating: G  
> A/N: Utter silliness in response to this part of a summary on FFN: "Severus Snape hates Christmas. When he's forced to attend the Yule Ball it was mandatory he is in a fowl mood." Full of bad puns. You have been warned!_

Severus knew from the beginning that, festive holly boutonniere or no, the costume was a total cock-up. He sighed and belatedly wished he hadn't allowed himself to get his feathers all ruffled. But even a drunken bet was a bet, and he didn't want to be the one with egg on his face.

The mirror clucked at him as he preened himself one last time, disparaging both his ailing comb and his grooming technique. "We shouldn't like to be you right now, my chick," it said disdainfully. "It'd just [gall us! Gall us!](http://animaldiversity.ummz.umich.edu/site/accounts/information/Gallus_gallus.html)"

Severus sneered back at the mirror (albeit the effect was somewhat lessened from his usual) and turned up his beaky nose; he wasn't going to be henpecked by any piece of glass. Finishing his ablutions, he sighed a second time, however. If there had to be a short straw, why did he always have to pull it?

Well, there was nothing for it; it wasn't going to do any good to stay cooped up in here all night brooding. He might as well go out to the ball and find a comfortable, dark corner to roost in. He might be a sneaky, loophole-in-the-rules-of-the-forfeit-finding git, but he was no chicken.


End file.
